My Whole Life is a Bad Movie Idea
by webidolchiu94
Summary: Maka Albarn: One of Hollywood's rising starlets. Soul Eater Evans: His family's newest  but reluctant  musical prodigy, growing ever more popular each day. Both are asked to co-star in a new TV series, what will happen? AU, some OCs and RANDOM DANCING!
1. Prologue

**Okay, before you guys get all worked up, I did not steal this idea. I was inspired by the fanfic Wonderful Nightmare to try and do something really different. If you don't like it go and do some nerd rage. This one is dedicated to you, GlassAlice! It was just an idea so don't sue me.**

**Disclaimer:****I do NOT own Soul Eater, no matter how much I write about it.**

Prologue: "A Chance Meeting Ties Us Forever"

"Soul, hurry up! We're going to be late!" A tall teenage boy sprinted down the school's hallway, clutching a violin case in one hand and a blue folder of sheet music in the other. A shorter, (yet almost identical-looking) ten-year old boy was following close behind.

"I'm hurrying, wait up Wes!" grumbled the younger, a mess of papers in his arms held to his chest. He stumbled after his brother frantically, scowling in fury. Soul's shock of uncombed white hair and bloodshot red eyes make him look like a demon, witch was only enhanced by the pointy, zipper-like teeth he now bared at his older brother Wes. "It's all your fault. You let me sleep in when I told you to wake me up!"

"Hey, if anything you should be old enough to able to wake yourself up. Besides, I was practicing." Wes rounded the corner and Soul barely caught up. Evidently the boy had not been paying attention to where he was going. Several, almost all of the sheets of music that had been smashed against him fluttered to the ground when he collided with some innocent girl who had just a second ago been strolling around the corner herself.

"Gah!" yelled Soul, falling on his butt.

"Eek!" screeched the girl, landing with an ugly thud opposite the boy.

Wes stopped and looked back. _Damn it Soul..._

"Are you okay?" he said, screeching to a halt only to come rushing to the little girl's aid. Soul frowned while salvaging his sheet-music. Why didn't he get any help? "I'm sorry about my brother, we're late for music class." He put the folder under one arm and held out his hand. The girl stared at it angrily, picked her self up and dusted off her skirt.

"I'm okay," she replied, folding her arms and turning her head to the side. Her sandy pigtails swayed with her movements, and the brothers simply stared as the young girl squint her sage eyes in annoyance.

"Hey," said Soul when he had finally gathered his things. "You should watch where you're walking."

"I should say the same about you, asshole. And my name's Maka Albarn, not 'you' so 'you' better learn some matters. You two are the Evans brothers right?"

"..." Soul ground his teeth together.

"Oh, you're that girl from the drama department," realized Wes. "I've heard you're a great actress."

"Thanks," said Maka with a grin.

Wes nodded. "Isn't that right Soul? They were talking about her in Mr. Gregor's music class."

"For an actress she looks pretty plain to me," muttered Soul with an angry snort.

"Shut up, shortstack," threatened the girl.

Wes looked at the clock on his wrist and nearly fainted. "We've got to go, alright?" he said hurriedly, pulling on his brother's arm. "But see you later, okay?"

Maka nodded, "keep that mutt you call a brother on a leash, okay?"

"Shut up you bitch!" yelled Soul, he put up his middle finger and stuck out his tongue just as he was pushed into Mr. Gregor's room. Wes sighed, disappearing as well.

"I hope I never see that dude again," mumbled Maka with a frown.

And it was true that she didn't see him for a very long time. Five years in fact.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Heh, thanks guys, I'm updating now, dont'cha know? Thank you for your reviews, alerts, and stuff: **_

_**AWESOME SAUSE (whoever you are), Bendy0Straw, thank you! You've made my day! More reviews and alerting would be very nice guys!

* * *

**_

_Chapter One: I the lowly Musician..._

**Five years later:**

At the bottom of his stomach, something stirred.

"Hey bud!" said a bright and cheery voice from the right front seat.

Soul cringed inwardly to look up from his book. Right now he was reading one of the _Maximum Ride_ series, and he was just getting to the part where Fang kisses Lissa, when—

"Shouldn't you be studying or practicing reading music or something?" said the voice, losing a fraction of it's cordiality and becoming more like a scolding parent. Soul frowned and put the book over his head, feeling a bit ill. He knew cars, reading, and himself didn't truly (or regularly) mix, but still, it was turning out to be a good book. Soul never really read much these days except his textbooks and sheet music so it was a good change of pace.

"Hey, Evans? You okay?" said the voice again, now concerned. Soul peeked at his manager from underneath the book and sighed. Kaz was leering at him, he had pulled his shades down and raised a dark shapely eyebrow in silent question.

Soul looked outside the window and felt a slight case of vertigo. His stomach leaped.

"You're looking green, bud."

Soul just knew he should have skipped breakfast.

"Pull over!" he yelled, jumping up. The book tumbled onto the seat, and the limo skidded to a halt and he opened the door to puke.

Kaz looked at him blandly when Soul was finished and tossed him two more pills.

"I think they wore off, don't you think, Soul?"

Soul scowled and downed the motion sickness medicine quickly, chasing it with a bottle of _Evian_. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

_No more reading in the car for me._

"Hey," said Kaz brightly. "You're looking down, bud." He grinned from ear to ear. "I know what'll cheer you up." Kaz whipped out the newspaper. "Reviews~!" sang the manager.

_Oh, no._

"Let's see, Soul Eater Evans." He point to the black and white page. "There ya are!"

Soul groaned, and pulled at his hair in silent anguish. Kaz didn't notice.

"Mr. Evans shows remarkable potential. If you thought his recordings were good, hear him in person!" Kaz grinned again. "I've been to several of his concerts, and each time I have been double-wowwed, again and again. Compared to his brother Wes—,"

"Stop."

Kaz pulled down his shades again. "Why, kid? I was just getting to the best part of the review."

"I don't need to hear anymore."

"But wh—,"

"You of all people should know I don't like being compared to Wes, we're nothing alike."

"Well, you _look_ the same to me."

Soul grit his sharp teeth and stuffed his face into Kaz's, red eyes apprehensive. The startled manager shuddered at the sudden dreadful image of Soul chomping on his nose or something.

"We do _not_ look the _same_. Got it?"

"F-fine," said Kaz weakly, putting his hands up in defeat. "You're complete opposites."

"Thank you." He settled into the leather seat comfortably and closed his eyes. _We are not moving, we are NOT moving, Soul-Eater. _"Where are we going again?"

"_We_ are going to visit the casting director of Rogue Pictures. They asked specifically for you."

"Why a mediocre musician like me?"

-sigh- "You mean a brilliant _recording artist_ like yourself can't figure it out?"

"No," stated Soul moodily. "Bring me up to speed. _Enlighten_ me, Kaz."

"He wants you to star in this new idea of his friend, Atsushi Ōkobo."

Soul opened one heavy lid halfway. "You mean the manga-artist?" He'd read _B. Ichi. _Soul shrugged. He guessed the guy was alright if he made a decent series like that. "So what's his idea?"

"You."

Now the teen was confused. "What?"

"You, you're his newest idea."

"Imagine~" said the Japanese man, spreading his arms wide. " A world where people turn into weapons!"

Soul stared at him as he sketched his newest "project" as he called him. The boy had a scowl on his face, showing a perfect view of his special set of teeth. Ōkobo relished in the moment, taking in all of Soul's features: the spiky white hair, the menacingly vivid red eyes, the teeth—especially the teeth.

"And the ones who control these weapons are called Meisters!"

"Meisters?" asked Soul.

"Yes, weapon Meisters," affirmed the man, still drawing. "They go to this school where they fight evil. Called _Shinigami Buki Shokunin Senmon Gakkō, "shibusen" for short_ ."

"You may want to translate the name..." said the fifteen-year old.

He smiled at Soul. "The school is run by Shinigami-sama..."

Soul felt his eye twitch. "Who?"

"Um...I think you call him 'The Grim Reaper' in America."

"And what do the students do exactly?" he was now intrigued.

"They're supposed to collect Souls."

"Souls?"

"Souls," stated the man simply. "99 evil ones and one of an evil witch. So that the weapons can become a— ," the translation was a bit sticky in his mind. "A Death Scythe, one of the Grimm Reaper's personal weapons."

"Cool. Are all of the weapons scythes?"

"Thank you, Evans-sama, but no there's all types. Swords, bows, pistols."

"Call me Soul. Now...where do I fit into this?" asked Soul, pointing to himself.

"You are to mostly act yourself, while staying in the boundaries of the story."

"Uh huh, so what's my role?"

"The main character."

"Who is?"

"Soul-Eater Evans."

"I get it that's my name, but who am I playing?"

"Soul-Eater Evans," said Ōkobo seriously. "A scythe, but nonetheless yourself." He held up the picture he'd been working on while they were seated across from each other in the room.

"That's me?" He saw himself drawn as this amazing anime character with a headband with his name and everything. A cool-looking jacket, and a zig-zagged grimace on his face. Next to the drawing of himself, however was that of a scythe.

"You can have the drawing if you'd like."

"Thanks." He accepted the paper from him and held it up. "So this is some kind of reality-yet-fiction show?"

A nod.

"I've got one question: who's to play the part of my, uh... Meister?"

There was an impatient knock on the door.

"Come in please," said Ōkobo. "I asked her specifically as well," he whispered to Soul, sho only stared at the doorway in disgust.

"Hello? Am I supposed to meet my co-star here?"

Those familiar little pigtails and bright green eyes. Soul kicked himself repeatedly in his mind, wishing he'd disappear any second. Just vanish, like _now_. The girl narrowed her eyes at almost the same time as he did.

"You," they both said in unison.

_It's her._

_ That foul-mouthed mutt._

Ōkobo-sama might as well have set off an atomic bomb.

**So...how was it? Please Review my friends.**


	3. Chapter 2

_**Rikku0397, Grey-The Ulatmite Fan Girl, FinnLuver8o0, Cg2. Nenetwin, deisori9fuzzyfur, UsagiGoRawr, Raviolli101, Miyaow, Damien Konstantin, thank you, my kind audience, all of you who reviewed, favorited, or alerted. Any mission requests? Review please! **_

_**~Chiutan**_

* * *

_Chapter Two: I the lonely Actress..._

The albino stared at the petite girl some more, his grimace returning along with some nausea despite the fact he _wasn't_ in a car. "Nuh, uh,"spat Soul, crossing his arms. "No _f-ing_ way!"

Ōkobo-tama looked stricken. "But why Soul-san?" His brown eyes widened sadly in polite protest. Soul growled and jabbed a finger in Maka's direction.

"I don't work with prissy little actresses who don't _watch where they're going._"

_He's such a __**jerk. **_"Hmph!" said Maka, flushing in anger. Within her emerald eyes, explosions of fury were bubbling and her hands were placed on her hips. Soul flinched and looked away from her eyes, suddenly none too thrilled at the ovals of mint threatening to bore holes in his brain.

"But...why?" repeated Ōkobo. "Do you know Albarn-sama?"

"We've met, Ōkobo-sensei, and not on very friendly terms."

"Yeah at the Dorian Wilder Maldrictch School of the Arts," said Soul. "I never planned on seeing her again, actually."

"Might I remind you that you graciously bumped into me," said Maka, remembering the incident with undeniable anger, despite the five years past.

"You bumped into _me_!"

"Says the mutt."

"I am _not _ a mutt!"

The teenagers stared in an angry staring contest for what seems ages.

In awe, Ōkobo adjusted his glasses and listened to the exchange. He sat transfixed, sketching Maka as she derided the reluctant musician. Her eyes were large and vivid. The mangaka had often quickly noticed when watching her act in small roles she played that they were perfect for conveying a very wide spectrum of emotions. When he finished the drawing the two were arguing still.

"You're such a whiny brat!"

"No," whined Soul, "I'm not!" He snorted, a sneer on his mouth."_You're_ a little-miss-flat-chest."

Maka clenched a warning fist, shaking it in his face.

"If you weren't some rich pretty boy, I'd slug you, punk."

"Who are you callin' a punk?"

"Evans-san? Albarn-san?"

"What?" they said in unison, turning to the man. Ōkobo shrank into his seat fearing both their intimidating glares.

"I finished another drawing." He held it to Maka and her expression softened. "It's you dressed up in the costume for the show."

She surveyed the long trenchcoat and plaid skirt with interest. "I like it. It screams 'rebel girl'."

"You do?"

"Pfft," said Soul, peering over her shoulder. "My pictures much cooler."

"You shut up, cur!"

"Cur?" Confusion was slapped onto his face in an instant.

"It means 'mutt', Evans, or do you not speak English?"

His anger returned. "Hey now, this coming from—,"

"Excuse me," said Ōkobo. "Can I explain the story to Albarn-san yet?"

Soul pouted and was about to open his mouth to speak, but Maka silenced him with one shot of the evil eye.

"Go ahead," she said to the man, who cheerfully laid out the basic plot to the actress.

* * *

****At lunch****

"Kaz, I want out."

His manager stuffed a couple french fries into his mouth and chewed hugrily. Soul looked at his hamburger in half-lidded disinterest. His stomach refused to settle down after their short ride to Sonic.

"Sorry, kid but your parents signed a contract." A loud slurp of Sprite echoed from the older man's glass. "The record company is looking forward to promoting your next cd with this show. In fact, it makes up most the soundtrack."

"So this means I'm stuck?"choked Soul. He stared at the hamburger as if it were Maka and stabbed it with his fork repeatedly. _Damn it damn it, f-ing sh—_

"Afraid so." Kaz looked warily at his ward, who seemed to enjoy committing homicide with his lunch. "But look on the bright side, Bud, we'll be next to Vegas!"

"You of all people know I don't gamble." Soul looked up from the foor. "Nor am I allowed to, legally speaking."

_I wasn't talking about __**you **__going... _"Well, you get to live in your own apartment."

"Yeah," whined Soul, "but _she'll_ be there!" Still fuming, he gave the innocent slab of beef and bun one final loathing stab.

"Isn't that a _good_ thing?" Stirring some salt into his drink and sipping, Kaz rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed kid, she's kind of cute."

"Hmph." Soul twisted the wrapper of his straw around his middle finger and dipped it into his drink absently.

"What?" Kaz raised a greyish eyebrow.

"She's not my type," remarked Soul with disinterest.

"Meaning?"

"She's a hothead and totally uncool." The straw wrapper sank to the bottom of the glass. "And flat as a pre-schooler."

With an insane laugh, Kaz pat the boy on the back.

"Oh," he said, "so no lolicon fetishes for you, eh?"

Disgust slithered into his stomach. "WHAT THE HELL KAZ?" bellowed an offended Soul, choking on his own spit. The entire restaurant trained their eyes upon them both. Kaz put up his his hands, it was becoming a regular gesture.

"Okay, OK, I went a little too far kid, so sue me?"

"I'd rather _fire_ you," said Soul coldy before he turned his frustration to the fries on his plate.

Kaz blinked his blue eyes and held a hand to his chest in hurt. "You don't," -sniff- "really _mean_ that, do ya Bud?"

A corner of the boy's mouth went down. "No, of course not Uncle Kaz."

His manager smiled and began to eat the rest of his food.

* * *

Maka put a pinky in her free ear and held the canary yellow cell phone away from her ear.

"Maka! I'm so excited!"

"Why's that, papa?"

"I'm going to be in the show with you!"

On the other end Spirit jumped up and down on his bed like a teenage girl, red hair messy and uncombed. His long white shirt was disheveled and a loosened tie hung around his neck. Obviously, he'd been celebrating the news.

"Oh," she replied without emotion. "Of course." Maka had forgotten about that. "I see."

"They asked Mama too, but she didn't want to."

"I can understand, she's still busy with a new movie in Toronto."

"I can't wait Maka! I just—,"

She hung up the phone and threw it onto the hotel's sofa.

"Damned hyperactive—," she threw herself onto the bed, plunged her head into a pillow in despair and screamed. Maka looked over to the nightstand, where the copy of the casting sheet she was given lay. In her anger she snatched it up and looked over the list of main characters:

Cast

_Maka Albarn_

_Soul Eater Evans_

_Death the Kid- Kidd Façon_

_Elizabeth "Liz" Thompson_

_Patricia "Patty" Thompson_

_"Black*Star"- Barry 'Étoile' Simonè_

_Tsubaki Nakatsukasa_

_"Shinigami-sama"- Tuerie Façon_

_"Death Scythe"- Spirit Albarn_

_"Professor Stein"- Franken Simonë_

It seemed most of the younger cast were to be called by their actual names.

Maka's frown grew deeper. Barry was to be in it as well. That self-absorbed child star whom she shared a none too enjoyable meeting with as well. Somehow, though they had ended up dating. Briefly. VERY briefly. So briefly, in fact it went like just this: He asked her out, she said yes, and five minutes later she broke up with him for trying to lift up her skirt.

_Stupid self important perv..._

In a way she kind of missed that. She had no other boyfriends, no fan-mail from boys, no love confessions, not even a crummy little valentine.

Being her really sucked.

_Papa and Mama. Things aren't getting better._

She was flat, her parents lived seperately, and the only boy on the planet who she got an emotional reaction from other than Barry, was a jerk who flipped her off when they were ten.

_Damn._

Sometimes, Maka was just too desperate to care. She dug beneath the covers to find her Iphone, and plugged the lemon Skullcandies into her ears with a bitter taste in her mouth. With one free finger she slid the volume up high and drowned in the somber, longing tones of the Veronicas.

"_Untouched" _was on repeat.

_I feel so untouched right now..._

_**

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Can you do me a favor and review?**_


	4. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay, I was having computer troubles, and my papa finally bought me a new one! Hooray for my new laptop! Also, another reason why this has been…y'know…I've been trying to recover my grades! But s****e****riously, I had lots of time during spring break so I'm updating a lot of stories. I know, I'm just a loser highschooler who never goes nowhere during spring break, locks myself in my room, and draws and writes all the time; not that I'm saying that those who do that are losers. I just consider myself a loser, I guess...which reminds me, if you want to check out some fan-art for my stories, and my Deviant Art is the same as my pe****n****name! ****Additionally…how would you feel if I added scifi elements to this story?**

**Thank you all that subscribed and favorited, and those of you who sent a PM for encouragement! (Spicey303, spixie303) ~webidolchiu94**

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Chapter three: We, the unlikely team?

_I like the light turned out,_

_The sound of closing doors,_

_I'm not like other girls_

_Who always felt so sure_

_Of everything they are,_

_Or what they're gonna be_

_Sometimes I's just a girl_

_Stuck inside of me_

…

Sardines were the lucky ones, even in that cramped little can they had more wiggle room than this. At the moment Maka really was wishing that she was somewhere other than the airport. Aside from the excessive heat from the camera flashes and crowd around her, things would have been more than peachy if it hadn't been the deafening noise of screaming girls.

Plus, someone she couldn't tell who, kept on elbowing her in the gut, over and over. Whether it was on purpose or not, it sure was making her abdomen hurt-a lot. Some merciful sniper needed to shoot her quickly, to take her out of this hell.

What had everyone so hyped anyway? It surely wasn't_ her_ arrival. Standing on her tippy toes, Maka arched her neck over the constantly moving mass of fangirls.

_Oh_, she said quietly. Maka was a bit surprised, but not by much—all the commotion was over musicians. She had figured it was something like that. Most all of them Maka recognized. Iwasaki Taku, Kana Nishino, and even the entire group of Abingdon Boys School, including T.M Revolution.

"Takanori-kun!" shrieked the thousands of girls. "Takanori-sama!"

One minute she was in hell, and the next, it didn't really matter because her inner fangirl was suddenly ignited like a piece of paper held over a charcoal grill. Either it was the dangerous quantities of estrogen wafting off the crowd, or the sheer enthusiasm and excitement of the overall atmosphere affecting her, Maka was ashamed to admit that under a minute she was one of them. She waved idiotically and smiled, yelling until there was no more breath left in her lungs.

"Tsuru-chama! Kinya-san! Tatsushi-tama Kenichi-kun!"

She went blended with the crowd, no one really noticing her because they were so focused on the "real" celebrities. Maka grinned. Sometimes it felt good to act normal once and a while, even if for a few minutes. But then she saw something that made her stop cheering along with the hysterical fan-girls.

"Sunao-san look over here!" One of the shorter fans climbed onto her friend's shoulders to get a better view.

"Shi-ba-sa-ki," chanted another clutching her autograph pen so hard it broke into two.

"Kishi-kuuuu~n!" squealed a girl next to Maka before fainting in her hysteria.

Her eyes moved slowly to the end of the procession of V. and stopped cold when she saw them. Wintry White hair and apple red eyes, both boys. The two brothers were trailing behind their fellow musicians silently, trying be low key.

_What the?_

"Wes?" she yelled, remembering the elder one's name. "Soul?" They could be her salvation out of this, though it was a stretch. "Wes!" Maka shouted even louder this time, cupping her hands sound her mouth like a megaphone. "Soul!" Not much of a reaction; at the same time there were tons of girls around her screaming their names as well. Maybe something different. "HEY MUTT!"

At that Soul prickled instantly and turned to the crowd. "Who said that?" he bellowed over the noise, and in five seconds a hush rolled over the scene. "Who called me a mutt?" Wes tried to calm him down, but got a knifelike leer in his direction, prompting the older brother to remove the hand from Soul's shoulder. All the girls had begun murmuring amongst themselves on who had said the offensive word.

"That was me," admitted Maka, pride in her smile. Immediately the sea parted around her and she stepped forward to face the music with no fear.

Seething now, Soul pointed at the bold starlet and narrowed his eyes. "You. You with the name-calling again?"

The word "again" rippled over the on looking crowd of girls as the press jot down every word the two exchanged.

"What _about _me?" challenged Maka, who was grinning wider than ever. "Mutt~" she repeated.

"I am NOT a MUTT!" Soul exploded like a pipe bomb, face the same shade of rouge as his irises. Behind his eyes, tears stung. For a c*nt with no breasts, the girl was getting to him and he didn't exactly know why. "Why can't you let bygones be..." For a second he lost his train of thought in a wave of anger. "Be-be-whatever they are?"

Maka already had a witty counter planned. "Because you've no idea to talk to a lady, Soul."

"..." _God is she infuriating..._

Wes smiled a bit as his memory slowly pieced together the image of a younger Maka scowling at him and his brother Soul. "You're that young b-lady from way back when. Maka Albarn, was it?"

"Glad to know you remember my name, Wes."

He blinked back surprise. "And you remember mine?"

"I went to one of your concerts a while ago," she said, the skin on her face adopting a light magenta tint. "I—,"

He snapped his fingers in revelation. "That's right!" Another memory, one of Maka and a woman looking very similar to her also popped up, both were dressed to the nines in long dark gowns that ruffled out at the bottom, and matching high heels. Both had their golden hair loose and styled into intricate buns. Maka stood behind the older one looking very shy. Every time she felt embarrassed and would look down suddenly, the bangs fell over her face, partially concealing her flushed cheeks. "I don't think we've met but twice, but I could never forget Kami's lovely daughter, now could I?"

_Lovely?_ Maka's cheeks took on the same color as at their second meeting. "B-but that was over a year ago! Besides I bet all your other fans gave you much nicer things."

"I still have it, though."

Shocked, she smiled nervously. "Really?"

From his left pants pocket he dug out a coin, a yen piece. "Well, you remembered that I was going to go on a tour across Japan, so you gave me This and said:..."

"Take this," both Maka and Wes began, "So you can buy something when you arrive."

Open-mouthed and broken, Wes's little brother looked on as the two had miraculously bonded in only a few minutes. Soul tried to say something but his voice wouldn't work at all.

"Hey, care to join us in the limo, Ms. Nuit Etoile?" said The violinist casually, putting the coin away. "I bet Soul would love that."

"I would n—"

We covered his mouth mid-word. "Right Soul?"

"Hrmp..."

"Okay then, let's go."

"Ikou Ze!" Maka said enthusiastically following the brothers to the exit.

Nearby, Mr. Taku perked up at the expression. He had been talking to the lead singer of the Stance Punks at the moment; the phrase had given him a sudden idea for an ending theme.

* * *

"What's the wrong with him?" Maka asked curiously, bit off a small chunk of sandwich and chewed daintily. On the way to the studio they had made the driver stop at Sonic for some quick nourishment. Across from her, Soul had his head resting in between his knees as he slowly breathed in as out. He pulled his bangs backwards with his hands and tried to calm down his stomach again. From the part of his forehead that was visible Maka could see light sheen of sweat.

Wes rolled his eyes, which was a bit exaggerated. "Oh, he gets carsick all the time," he said, Maka noting the light British accent he was trying to mask. "Ever since he was a tyke." Wes took up his drink and leaned over to Soul. "Hey, bro."

"What?" he shakily replied, still panting and hunched over. Right next to Soul's ear, Wes took a long sip from his straw, making the ice soda left over to rattle at the bottom. The slurping sound caused Soul's stomach to complain. "That's so unfair, Wes. Stop it, you know I'm starving."

"You didn't want food, remember?"

"I'd prefer not to puke every time I take a plane and/or car ride, thank you."

"Your loss," said Maka, joining in on the teasing. She exaggerated her chews and stuffed her cheeks with as much food as physically possible. "Mmmm~," she said unnecessarily loud.

"Augh," Soul groaned in unison with his empty gut. "Demons from my own personal hell. Both of you! Begone, begone!"

His two tormentors laughed malevolently all the way to Rogue Pictures.

When they finally arrived at the plain and blocky mass of lime colored buildings on the outskirts of town, who would you guess they met? Yes, I'm sorry to say it was none other than the ever-irritating Kaz. When the group had piled out of the limo he gave a fake smile bigger than Barry's ego. He was wearing a shirt that said 'Hello My Name is GaNgsTa' with brown super-skinny jeans and a backwards baby blue baseball cap. A heavy gold chain hung around his neck. Kaz put up a peace sign and strut over to meet the teens.

"Yo~ Bud! Soul, my home-slice," said the manager, full of sunshiny crap. "How's it crack-a-lackin with all o' my peeps?"

"...Yeah~" Soul stared at him and tried his best to stay composed. "Other than my name, I understood not a lick of that strange alien speak."

"Me neither," Wes added. "Double for me."

"Ditto," said Maka, blank-faced. "What language was that? If it was English, then let me suggest classes to help with your accent."

Kaz sighed in his failed attempt to appear cool. "Honestly I don't know myself," he told them. From his jeans' back pocket he pulled out a slim little book, his latest piece of literature he was perusing. On the front in grey chicken scratch was the title: Wassup? "I've been studying modern teenage slang lately."

"Well that book is bogus," Soul said in a flat voice. "We totally don't talk like that, man."

"T'cha," said Maka. "You paid money for that crappy book, looks like you got pwned."

"Okay, fine, I get I'm a 'stupid adult' now, care to come inside to meet the producer?"

* * *

**Lyrics Belong to The Veronicas….they usually are not mine unless I say they are!**

**Click review at the bottom if you DARE~**


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